


The Colonel's Madness

by WindyRein



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Guilt, Introspection, POV Second Person, POV The Colonel, Probably Never Over It, Regret, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyRein/pseuds/WindyRein
Summary: You run down the stairs. It's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Of course it is. You run down the stairs and put pressure on the wound but the neck's all wrong.





	The Colonel's Madness

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was watching [Mark's "I Explain Everything" stream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_760Ruvx_2s), as you do, and ended up thinking about the Colonel sitting for ten hours with nothing but his thoughts and a corpse for company and how that might be and this happened. Not really as long as I'd like but then again, I think everything necessary is included.
> 
> So, enjoy :)

You run down the stairs. It's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Of course it is. You run down the stairs and put pressure on the wound but the neck's all wrong and...

You sit when your knees get weak. There's something hard and warm in your hand. You clutch it close and sit. You'll have to call someone at some point.

Nothing but a house filled with corpses for company. One, two, three, how they pile up. One, two, three, hatred, fury, grief. One, two, three, did you mean it?

The house creaks. The house whispers. Whispers louder than ever before. Have you even noticed it before?

Did you mean it? Shooting and shooting and shooting. Friends, strangers, acquaintances. Bodies piling up. Did you mean it?

You lost a friend. You lost a lover. You lost a life. You, you, you, it's about you, always about _you_. Did you notice? _His_ hatred about you, never about her, always about you.

And now she's gone. Vanished into thin air like your last friend in the whole world. Gone like the chef's hopes and dreams. You're alone again. Alone with a corpse. A corpse you didn't mean to make. Did you?

Why did you avoid Damien? Why not tell him everything? Why didn't you tell Celine? There wasn't time? But wasn't there? Wouldn't they have listened if you said you had something important to tell them? Do you think they never cared for you?

Why not just leave? For that matter, why did you even come here in the first place? It's not like you and him have talked to each other for years. It's not like he didn't make his feelings about you, you and Celine, unavoidably clear the last time you'd seen each other.

_(killer, killer, murderer, killer)_

You stare at the body on the floor and think Damien would have been so disappointed. You couldn't keep his friend safe, no matter yours. You drop the cane in your lap and put your head in your hands. Why did this have to happen?

You should have just stayed away. You should have realized _he_ would never forgive you. You should have realized there was some sort of revenge plot in the works. But why involve Damien? Why involve Celine? Was he so bitter about her leaving? It was all on you. It's what he'd said last time you'd come begging for cash.

You should've just stayed away. Should've remembered he was never the forgive-and-forget type. But you'd been brothers, hadn't you? Or something close to it. And Damien had been _his_ best friend as well as yours.

(the house whispers)

What does it matter what you thought? What does it matter what you, or even he, meant when it's all just shambles at your feet? An empty, broken house with empty, broken people.

What does it matter what you did when you're all alone with nothing but corpses and your regrets for company? _Why_ should it matter?

You haven't seen a dead body since the war. You'd forgotten how the bodies go limp in impossible positions, forgotten how red spreads and pools until it's the only colour left.

You'd forgotten how the light, the _life_ leaves the eyes and there's nothing but emptiness staring back. Emptiness and accusation.

It was easy to justify it when you were fighting for your country, fighting with your men. Now... now it's not so easy. You can tell yourself it was an accident, that all of them were accidents but that doesn't start their hearts beating again, doesn't stop them being dead.

Who carries around a loaded gun by _accident_ anyway?

Was it an accident or was it _easy_?

After all, there's no need to explain yourself if the questioner is dead.

.

.

.

.

.

The body... moved. Of course it moved. Of course it did. You didn't kill anyone. You're so relieved you could laugh. Of course you didn't. How could you have? You never were a killer.

**Author's Note:**

> Missed tags are appreciated and reviews are loved. :)
> 
> (semi-randomly on [tumblr](https://poutingtrolltroll.tumblr.com) screaming/wailing/ranting about writing if you wanna know what's in the works :D)


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